


doorways.

by hardcorenormcore (TheSepiida)



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Grief, Horror, Possession, Romani Wanda Maximoff, Sam Wilson is a Gift, Wanda Maximoff Centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:01:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27367714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSepiida/pseuds/hardcorenormcore
Summary: Wanda's strange dreams take a step into daylight and turn a dinner with friends into absurd horror.
Relationships: Wanda Maximoff & Sam Wilson, Wanda Maximoff & Stephen Strange
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	doorways.

**Author's Note:**

> CW for suicidal ideation.

“I’ve been having these weird dreams lately. They’re hard to explain, but they’re just overwhelming. Things… just come in and out of existence, and it’s as if everything is happening at once, a piano will fall apart into a shower of broken glass or one time a painted spoon burst into a bear with no skin, right in front of me. It scared me, I haven’t been that scared in a long time. But there’s always a woman there. She never changes, she’s always there in the distance, she… She looks like me, I think.

“Talking about it now, I should’ve told Agatha, I was at her home just earlier today. I don’t think I’ve told you about her. She’s teaching me witchcraft, apparently my powers are magic, she’s says I’m… that I’m drawing energy from another dimension? I think that’s how she said it. I told her a little about the experience and she says they must have opened me up to the universes and let me perform magic even though I’ve never learned it. She’s going to teach me how to control it, how to _really_ control it.”

Wanda stopped, glancing down at the grass where her hands laid on her lap before glancing up to the polished stone. Her hand lifted to where her fingertips traced over the engraved letters that spelled out PIETRO MAXIMOV. It was a nice headstone, nicer than anything the two of them envisioned their graves would be —a discussion they’d had before. Nicer than the mass grave her parents had been dragged into.

“Happy birthday, Pietro” The woman leaned her head against the cold stone, hot tears prickling her eyes, “I’m sorry I haven’t been here in so long… I still miss you everyday.” The tears began to roll down her cheeks, her voice barely a whisper, “Sometimes I wonder if I died with you… Sometimes I wish I did.” She stayed there, propped against the grave with her hands tucked into her sweater to brave against the chilly wind.

_________________________

“Miss?”

Wanda startled awake, arms sprawling through the air as her pale eyes darted around for the source that sprung her from sleep. They stopped on an elderly woman in a utilitarian denim coat before scanning her surroundings.

A graveyard. Of all the places to fall asleep in.

“Do you need some help?” The groundskeeper looked at her with a hand reaching out and pity written all over her face. Wanda could feel her cheeks burn.

“No, no I am okay.” The Avenger stumbled as she pushed herself up, holding a hand up when the other woman stepped forward to help her, “I’m okay” Wanda repeated, taking one last look before staggering out of the graveyard. The bus stop was just outside the gates, close enough the groundskeeper was still able to look over at her with that pitying face as she tried to make a point of not seeing it. Arms now tightly crossed together and hands shoved under her armpits for warmth, Wanda closed her eyes and prayed to the universe that the bus would get there soon. It took fifteen minutes standing in the growing wind.

Taking the bus to the subway to the stop closest to her was an ordeal. She had three people hesitantly ask if she was the scarlet witch, all of whom she’d politely lied that no, but she gets that a lot. A service dog wouldn’t stop barking at her, the owner had apologized profusely saying that the dog never done anything like that before. She reassured him that happened a lot.

It was when she finally got home and looked in a mirror that Wanda saw how much of a mess she looked. Her unwashed dark hair was tangled and the bags under her pale eyes was adorned with clumped and streaked mascara. She looked homeless.

No, she looked better when she was homeless. At least then she didn’t have this deadened expression, even if it was anger that had lit life in her eyes.

Licking her thumb the witch began rubbing off the mascara under her eyes, trying to make herself a little more presentable. She did have a birthday party, after all.

_________________________

Technically, it wasn’t a birthday party. Sam had expressed his concerns that she not be alone on the day and in his infinite wisdom said he’d have a dinner party —completely unrelated to any birthday— and that she was invited. He was a kind man. Two others were invited, of the people Wanda knew who’d fare in a dinner party Scott Lang and Clint Barton were not the first that came to mind. Still, Scott was always sweet and Wanda loved to watch him talk about his daughter, and Clint… Clint was one of the dearest persons left in Wanda’s life right next to Sam.

She stood head tilted and hands shoved into her pockets while waiting for the elevator to get to Sam’s floor. But when it stopped, the doors didn’t open. Wanda could suddenly hear herself breathe. It was one minute before she decided to pick up the emergency phone, placing it to her ear. With a lurch, the elevator started again. Wanda blinked and put the phone back.

Despite the elevator troubles, the apartment building was nice. Hardwood floors ran down the hallway lit with minimalist light fixtures. Simple, but well kept. She finally stopped at Sam’s apartment number, taking a small breath before lifting her hand to knock on the door.

“Wanda!” startled her, she whipped her head to see Scott waving with his free hand, just out of the elevator. He jogged over both hands now holding the sealed bowl.

“We were suppose to bring something?”

“Nah, you’re fine,” Scott waved his hand once again, “I just had some salad mix I needed to use up.

Wanda didn’t reply, lips pressing together. She knocked. After some muffled, indiscernible words the door opened.

“Hey!” Sam greeted, smile wide as he moved to let the two in.

“I brought salad” Scott greeted, lifting the bowl to show.

“Well I already got salad, but I appreciate the thought.” Sam closed the door after the entered.

“You guys come together?” Clint asked, walking out of the kitchen while chewing something.

“Nah, we just met in the hallway.” Scott began walking towards the kitchen before turning to Sam and pointing in the same direction, “Should I…?”

“Kitchen’s fine,” Sam turned his body towards Wanda, arms folding, “So how’ve you been holding up?”

Wanda took a slow breath, the sudden liveliness of the gathering catching her off guard, “I’ve been… okay. Taking it one day at a time.”

“Sometimes that’s all you can do. How’s those uh, magic lessons? You were telling me about?”

“Agatha is great, she is strict and grumpy but very knowledgable. Kind too, but don’t let her know I said that.”

They shared a small laugh. The oven dinged.

“Well, go have a seat Red, I’ll go get the chicken.”

The food was good, and everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, but Wanda hardly spoke, spending most of the time picking at the food on her plate. She barely noticed when Clint asked,

“Hey Wanda, so what’s this I hear about you becoming a real witch?”

The apartment building roared against the violent wind, the storm even stronger than it had been earlier that day. There had been warnings about a windstorm on the news, but Wanda paid pennies of heed to the news. The windows chattered in shouts, letting a few whistles through.

Lightening cracked.

The lights flickered.

She was closer to the woman, closer than she’d ever been before. Close enough to discern it wasn’t herself. Even if the woman looked at her with her own pale eyes.

“Storm’s a bad one.”

“Power better not go out.”

“Candlelit dinner doesn’t sound too bad” Clint looked around the table bemused, his eyes stopping at Scott. “Scott, you alright?”

Scott looked stiff, eyes wide and mouth opened wider as he sucked in as much air as he could. He began shuddering. Rigidly, the man lifted one arm, turning it around and exposing the bulging veins in his arms.

That’s when Wanda’s eyes widened.

The man fell to the floor in convulsions and began screaming. He screamed and screamed until suddenly, his veins burst.

Thousands of ants spilled and spurted out like blood.

“What the fuck! _What the fuck!_ ”

“Shit! Wanda! Can you do something?”

Wanda caught her breath, lifting her hands like a marionette and letting crackling red energy sprawl along the floor attempting to tangle up the countless insects.

“What should I do with them?” She called back

“I don’t know!”

Wanda paused before closing her eyes, taking a slow breath as she gathered the mass of ants in a red net. With a clench of her fist they burst into flame and disintegrated into nothing. Wanda’s hands dropped. She took slow steps towards the body hiding behind the table. When it revealed itself, Wanda didn’t take another step. She didn’t move. Clint and Sam had begun talking, but all Wanda could hear was her heartbeat.

There wasn’t a single drop of blood but rather jagged cuts along the veins in the arms and neck, as if something had burst out. As if ants had burst out. His eyes were gone, replacing them an odd off-white mush. Wanda could still see a few black specks crawling out of it. It was like the entire world had fallen away and it was just her and this body.

“Wanda?” Her trance broke. She looked over at the source, over at Sam. “This is some magic shit, right? I mean it’s gotta be. Can you, I dunno… feel anything?”

She swallowed, giving only a small nod before taking a few steps closer. Shaking hands lifted towards the body, her familiar red sparking around them as she tried to sense for traces of magic. But she felt nothing there, only her own work from gathering the ants.

“I don’t feel anything —But I’m still new, there could be traces I can’t detect. Magic that big should leave something.”

Clint took a seat, head collapsing into his hands for only a moment before her jumped to his feet. A few stray ants scattered from underneath the chair.

“Well then what the fuck was that? I mean he’s not made of ants, ‘Ant-Man’ just means he gets as small as an ant, right?” The only sound was the wind rattling the windows. “Right?”

Sam had his head in a hand, pinching the bridge of his nose while Wanda stared at Scott's unmoving body in a daze. Neither answered.


End file.
